


Wandered Many a Weary Foot

by Lies_Unfurl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel in the Bunker, Fluff and Crack, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lies_Unfurl/pseuds/Lies_Unfurl
Summary: Castiel decides that he wants to kiss Dean everywhere on New Year's Eve. Everywhere, as in, in every single time zone as one year turns to the next.Dean goes along with the plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this was shamelessly taken from a story with the (paraphrased) summary of, "Castiel kisses Dean everywhere on New Year's Eve." For some inexplicable reason, I interpreted that in the most innocent way possible. I was a bit shocked to realize I had misread it.
> 
> This is set in some unspecified future where Cas has his wings back and Mary is no longer around. Title taken from "Auld Lang Syne."

“Dean.”

Dean rolls over and buries his face in memory foam, ignoring the hand set upon his shoulder. This is the third time this has happened in the past three minutes. He almost panicked the first time he got yanked from his slumber, but then he realized that A) he’s in the bunker, B) it’s Castiel, and C) they’re temporarily not in the middle of a reality-altering crisis. And anyway, if it was an emergency, he’d know by now. 

“Dean!”

He lifts his head just enough to ground out a _“What?”_ before immediately trying to suffocate himself in his mattress again. It can’t be past 5:00 AM. He’s 95% sure they don’t currently have a hunt, and that he went to bed peacefully enough last night. He was alone, and he had missed Cas, been looking forward to the next time they met. 

At this point, he thinks, he really should know better than to ever _want_ anything.

“It’s almost midnight. We have to go.” And just like that, Dean feels himself leaving his cozy, cuddly, comfortable, cloudlike paradise and if he wasn’t awake before then, he sure as balls is now.

“Cas! The fuck?”

They’re standing on a beach, probably. Some sort of coast, in any case. Great. It’s dark. Even better. And warm. Dean slept shirtless. Is still shirtless. Is, for some reason, kind of hot. Sweat has already begun beading on his chest.

Castiel holds his hand as he gazes up at the sky. Dean blinks, his eyes beginning to adjust to the light. “I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Of course not. It’s 4:59 AM on December 31st there.”

Dean nods. He thinks he can see palm trees. Interesting. “Yeah. You want to tell me where we are?”

“Caroline Island. Of the Republic of Kiribati.”

Dean’s pretty damn good at US geography. He’s been in all the continental 48, plus Alaska and DC, on multiple occasions. When he’s driving between big cities, he almost never needs a roadmap, let alone a GPS. He knows the major routes and highways better than he knows the lines on the back of his hand.

He’s shit at world geography. And as far as he’s concerned, he’s pretty much allowed to be. Knowing a monster’s origin story doesn’t require him to place it on an unlabeled map. And besides, he’s done more travelling between dimensions than most, so like… that kind of makes up for it.

So he doesn’t know where the fuck Kiribati is, let alone Caroline Island. He also doesn’t want to give Cas the satisfaction of knowing that he doesn’t know, even though part of _him_ knows that that’s dumb, because Castiel has never been one to gloat. Comparing his knowledge to Dean’s would be like comparing Dean’s poker skills to those of an ant. Such a big difference as to render a comparison pointless.

Fuck, he’s tired.

In any case, he doesn’t bother asking Cas to point out their location on a map. Because that’s not really the important thing right now.

“Okay. Uh. You want to tell me why we’re on Caroline Island?”

“Because it’s one—”

Suddenly he’s pulling Dean close and kissing him roughly, and _fuck_ it’s great, just the two of them breathing in the clean, salty air and listening to the waves crash against the shore. Dean buries his hands in Castiel’s hair and nips at his lower lip. His logic says that this isn’t exactly important right now. His dick says otherwise. Dean long ago figured out which he preferred listening to.

Castiel breaks the kiss, panting slightly, even though Dean is pretty sure he doesn’t actually have to breathe.

“We should go. Given that the island remains uninhabited, your very presence could prove destructive to the ecosystem.”

Before Dean can decide how he should feel about _that_ proclamation, they’re back in the bunker. Dean sits back on his bed with a thump and tugs Cas down next to him. His head is spinning, and the scent of saltwater and brine seems to linger in the air.

“Okay. You want to explain what the hell that was about?”

“I was trying to,” Castiel replies, sounding irate. “You kept falling back asleep.”

Huh. Dean _does_ vaguely recall dreams of Castiel leaning over him, trying to patiently explain something that didn’t sound like a matter of life and death.

“Yeah. Well. I’m a person. People need to sleep. Especially at 5:00 AM.”

“Sam is up already. He gets up at this time almost every morning, to go for a run.”

Dean almost replies _yeah, well, go date Sam then_ , but that’s crude and the thought of it makes him jealous, which is probably kind of dumb, considering it’s an insult of his own invention. So he just frowns and grumbles, “Fucking good for him. Why’d you take me to the beach?”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Castiel says simply. Then he stops. 

Dean waits. And waits. Sighs. “Yeah. And…?”

“Much as I view time as a social construct designed to aid the productivity of mankind, I recognize its symbolic importance. It’s traditional to kiss the one you love when the clock strikes midnight and one year slips into another.”

“Uh huh.” Dean nods. And waits. Sighs again. “And…?”

“And you are very dear to me. I want to ring the year in with you. But then I had to contend with the notion of time zones. Had I waited until the year turned here, it would have already occurred for most of the world’s population. So it seemed to me that since I’m currently able to fly, the most logical thing to do is welcome the year as it treks across the earth. Caroline Island is among the first time zones where the day changes. As I was _trying_ to explain.”

Dean nods. And waits, but Castiel is apparently done. He sighs, tries to think of something to say, and signs again. Castiel remains sitting next to him, patient. Always patient. 

“Okay. So, uh, let me get this straight. We’re gonna zap off to all, what, twenty-four time zones? And kiss in each one?”

“That’s the plan.”

Dean doesn’t always get Castiel’s sense of humor. It’s understandable that a bit gets lost in translation, given that he’s a person and Castiel is a millennia-old celestial wavelength. But he’s at least 93% sure that Castiel, currently, is being entirely serious.

He’s been pretty keen on flying since he got his wings back. Dean doesn’t blame him, and he doesn’t want to, like, harsh his vibe or something.

But that’s not why he doesn’t protest.

Because the truth is, he’s still kind of hung up on the phrases Castiel used. “Kiss the one you love.” “You are very dear to me.” 

They’ve had this… whatever this is for a few months now. And Dean still can’t bring himself to say anything like that to Cas. He reasons his hesitation away by reminding himself that the angel _knows_. He can see into Dean’s thoughts. Even if he doesn’t regularly peek, which he probably doesn’t because that’s fucking creepy, he’s still smart enough to know how Dean feels without Dean explaining it to him. Probably.

Cas did say it, though. Casually. As if such things don’t echo with the fury of the trumpets of the Apocalypse. 

Cas is braver than him. He’s always known that.

And if this is important to him…

“Okay.” Dean nods. “You really want to do this?”

Cas tilts his head and smiles that small smile of his. “There’s nothing I’d like more than welcoming in the new year with you at my side. Again and again and again.”

“Okay. Then we’ll do this. First, let me put on a shirt. But we’ll do this.”

He grabs yesterday’s shirt from the floor and pulls it over his head, to ensure that he keeps his word. And then he yawns, and remembers that while it might be midnight somewhere, it’s still 5 AM on New Year’s Eve here. “But can I get a bit of sleep before the next one?”

“Of course.” Castiel begins to rise. “I’ll wait in the library—”

Dean grabs the sleeve of his coat and tugs him down. “Nah. Whatever you want to read, it can wait.”

He pulls Cas into his arms and presses his head against his shoulders. And he thinks that it’s better even than memory foam.

*

Unfortunately, by the time it’s midnight in New Zealand, Dean has just fallen back to sleep. He kisses Castiel sleepily and wonders at how he somehow manages to never have morning breath, even after he’s been lying with Dean. Which is a dumb thought in general, because, hello, angel. It’s dumber than usual because they’re in New Zealand, and maybe he should try to appreciate that instead of thinking about dumb things.

“I chose a site that featured prominently in that movie series you like so much,” Castiel informs him after they’ve broken apart. “The one about the elves.”

The elves are Castiel’s favorite part of Lord of the Rings. Dean has stopped trying to figure that one out. Or explain that there’s a bit more to the movie than he’s accounting for.

“Thanks.” Dean looks around. He can faintly make out mountains and valleys. There’s probably a river down there, or something. It feels like there should be. He wouldn’t know. Because it’s fucking midnight. “It’s beautiful.”

Castiel nods and smiles in satisfaction. They stand there for a moment, alone on the mountainside with fireworks echoing somewhere far off in the distance. Their fingertips ghost together, but neither makes to join hands. 

Next up is Majuro, which, Castiel informs him, is the capital of the Marshall Islands. Dean doesn’t know where those are either. He still doesn’t bother telling Cas that. It’s a nice kiss, short and sweet. Because they get caught materializing onto the shore, and have to flee before a mass of screaming people happen upon them. Still, Dean appreciates the dedication that Castiel puts into pecking him on the lips before they flee back to the safety of the bunker for another slightly-under-an-hour of fitful sleep.

Port Vila is more romantic. Even under the dark sky, the ocean there has the bluest water Dean has ever seen. They linger a few minutes past midnight, and this time Dean lets himself be bold and actually grasp Castiel’s hand. He thinks Cas smiles, but again, it’s dark.

Dean doesn’t bother trying to go back to sleep after that. He gets dressed while Cas goes ahead and makes coffee.

By the time he’s fully clothed, Castiel and Sam are both seated at the kitchen table. Dean halfheartedly notes Sam’s wet hair. Probably went showering after his stupid 5:00 AM run. Bitch.

“Cas was just telling me about your plans today.” Sam glances up at him, the corner of his mouth twitching. 

“Yeah, well, it’s better than getting drunk on champagne and passing out before midnight,” Dean grumbles, regretting the words as soon as they’ve left his mouth. From Sam’s raised eyebrows, he too notices that Dean is more accurately describing what he would be doing were in not for Cas. Sam probably planned to go to bed at 9:00 anyway. So he could get up for his goddamn run.

“I invited Sam out to breakfast with us. Our next stop will be Brisbane, Australia. English-speaking, and there should be plenty of places to get something to eat.”

Dean nods. One of the thing he appreciates about Cas is that he respects Sam and Dean’s closeness. It never feels like Sam is third-wheeling when he’s with them. Or like Cas is third-wheeling on the connection that Sam and Dean have from being together for… well, their whole lives, basically.

“Whaddya say, Sam? Coming down under with us?” Dean tries to put on his best Aussie accent. “Want to get some shrimp on the barbie?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Actually, I’m looking forward to trying some toast with vegemite. But same difference.”

“Dunno what that is, not looking forward to finding out.” 

His instincts are right. After an awkward kiss, with Sam pointedly looking in the opposite direction, they find a 24-hour-place jam-packed with partying Australians. It’s a situation unlike any other Dean has ever been in, and he’s not sure if he wants to repeat it. Mostly, he never again even wants to smell the putrid brown paste that Sam insists is “Actually pretty good” on his toast.

Dean’s almost done his own toast (with normal fucking butter, thankyouverymuch) when Castiel abruptly says, “Dean, we have to get going. It’s almost midnight again.”

Shit. He’d almost forgotten their goal in the midst of the partying Aussies. “Okay. Uh, Sam, mind coming along for the ride?”

Sam stands. “Dude, of course not. I always wanted to see the world.”

It’s true. Kid loved reading “National Geographic” when they were growing up. Probably never imagined that he’d be seeing it by third-wheeling his brother’s tryst with an angel.

( _Not just a tryst,_ a voice in his mind whispers, but he pushes it away. Other things to think about when they’re in the middle of a weird, whirlwind worldwide road trip – wing trip?)

In any case, Castiel ushers them out of the crowded diner and into a more-or-less isolated alley to zap them to their next stop. Said stop turns out to be the top of Bukhansan, a mountain in Seoul. They kiss passionately, or as passionately as Dean can manage with Sam right fucking there.

When they’re done, they go and sit next to Sam, who’s gazing out into the darkness beneath them. It’s chilly out, although Dean doesn’t really know how cold it generally is in South Korea. He resists the urge to hold Castiel’s hand and lean into him. He’s always warm. Angelic body heat or something. 

But Dean doesn’t do things like that in front of Sam. Not for the past several months that he and Cas been dating, or whatever. It’s just… it’s not something he does.

So he sits between Cas and his brother, maybe a bit closer to Cas, but not a conspicuous amount.

“This is nice,” Sam says quietly. Dean glances at him. He looks more peaceful than Dean has seen him since… well, since a long time ago.

“Cas, is this something that you can, like… do?” Sam asks. “I mean, just zapping us around. For fun or whatever.”

“I suppose it might constitute an abuse of my powers. But I don’t think anyone is keeping track anymore. So, yes. There’s nothing stopping me from flying you around the world.” Cas cranes his neck to look past Dean at Sam, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Is there somewhere in particular you’d like to go?”

“I don’t know.” Sam stretches his legs, not meeting Cas’s eyes. “It’s a big world. I’d have to think about it. Give me some time and I might just take you up on the offer.”

Dean stands. “Let’s go.”

Sam and Cas look at him, and he mumbles out some sort of excuse about having to take a leak and not wanting to risk getting caught with his dick out in a foreign country.

He doesn’t mention why he really wants to leave. It’s another thing that he doesn’t know how to fully vocalize on his own. His discomfort with the way they were talking, as if things were easy now. As if they had a break.

It’s a trap he’s fallen into too. Like when Cas first woke him up and he ignored him, because he knew there was nothing urgent going on. But their world isn’t one of stability. And it’s not a place where good things last. Like vacations. 

Or relationships, a voice inside him murmurs. He doesn’t address that. Just darts away to the bathroom as soon as they set foot in the bunker, and spends the remainder of the next hour avoiding Sam and Cas.

*  
Sam opts to stay in the bunker for the remainder of the day. “You kids have fun. I don’t want to intrude.” Dean rolls his eyes. If he knows Sam, the jerk will already be researching weirdass places to get Cas to fly him to.

Beijing’s got great fireworks. Smoggy as sin, though, and that kind of puts a damper on things. Dean thinks that he hasn’t seen the air so clouded since they were in Purgatory, and that fucking fog would roll up out of nowhere.

It’s not a memory he likes to think about. They don’t linger.

Their next trip is even shorter. Dean pecks Cas on the lips and then immediately says, “Go.”

Cas frowns, but a second later they’re back in the kitchen. Dean guesses that they spent all of one minute in their overseas destination, if that. And he also guesses that it’ll take the next hour, at least, for him to regain feeling in his fingers.

“I thought you’d like it,” Cas says, sounding morose. “Norilsk is the world’s northernmost city.”

Dean sighs and squeezes Cas’s hand. The time that Cas spent without his grace made him more sensitive to human needs, but he still slips up sometimes. “Dude, did you notice the temperature?”

“Around negative 30 degrees Fahrenheit, though the wind chill may have made it seem lower.” His frown deepens. “Oh.”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” and he sounds so apologetic that Dean risks being sappy and pulls him in for another kiss. 

“It’s all good. Just warn me next time we’re going to be close to the Arctic Circle, okay?”

Kathmandu actually isn’t that bad. Even just the outline of the mountains ringing the city make Dean feel small. It’s an odd feeling. He’s been to Heaven, Hell, and a lot of the places in-between. He should know how insignificant one person is in the middle of all that. But sometimes it takes moments on Earth, plain old Earth, to remind him of how tiny he is. 

He spends the next hour with Castiel, just sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch. He surfs his laptop. Cas reads a book. Small things. Good things.

Their next destinations are a sharp change from the mountains and beaches that Cas favored earlier. Mumbai is packed, enough to make Dean fear a repeat of the earlier incident, when they were caught zapping in and out. 

Then comes a kiss stolen in a desert, Dubai shining in the distance. They linger there, side by side, silent. Although Dean knows, logically, that there’s probably some light pollution from the nearby city, the sky above dazzles in its brilliant display of stars. And out here, where there’s no one else, he lets himself lean into Castiel, the angel’s body heat chasing away the nighttime chill. 

They end up staying there until the next New Year approaches. Dean doesn’t complain. Cas may have his wings back, but that doesn’t mean that constantly flapping from place to place doesn’t get tiresome. And… fuck, it’s kind of nice. Just the two of them, and the quiet. Dean’s never been overtly romantic. But something about Cas makes him think that he could be.

The next stop is Madagascar, in the middle of a fucking rainforest. Which is definitely something Cas would enjoy, because he’s an angel and knows exactly what lurks in the nearby trees. Dean can just hear the crunching leaves and snapping branches, the occasional growls or yelps, and the constant buzzes and chirps of what he can only assume is an army of bugs prepared to descend upon him at any moment. And when he opens his eyes right before breaking off the kiss, he’s met by another pair of eyes. Not Castiel’s eyes. A glowing pair. A _giant_ glowing pair.

He pulls away, then realizes that it’s probably better not to make any sudden movements. “Cas. There’s something behind you, and we need to go.”

Cas turns around, extends his hand to the… _thing_. “It’s just a lemur. They’re harmless.”

Dean glances away, not wanting Castiel to guess at his embarrassment at panicking over a fucking lemur, but then he realizes that there are a lot more eyes nearby, and yeah, this is too much like Purgatory for him to deal with. “I still think we should go.”

Cas doesn’t make him ask again. They arrive in the center of Dean’s bedroom. He stumbles over to the bed to sit down hard, close his eyes, and breath tepid air that, if slightly stale, at least doesn’t taste of decaying plants and crowded wildlife.

A soft dip in the mattress as Cas sits down next to him. “I’m sorry. You didn’t like it there?”

“It’s probably nicer in the daytime.” He pauses, then reminds himself that Cas probably deserves to know what’s up in his headspace when he’s being weird. “Kinda reminded me of Purgatory for a minute. You know. The dark. The woods.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s face doesn’t reveal his emotions, but he kicks off his shoes and gently tugs Dean so that he’s lying alongside him on the bed. Dean’s not used to cuddling when he’s not napping or it’s not a post-sex thing, but this is… well, it’s nice.

They go to Egypt next, to the Black Desert. Any lingering panic over the memories of Purgatory dissipates as he and Cas stargaze again. Even with only the natural light to guide them, Dean can see how stunning the contrast is between the black and gold sand. He makes a mental note to mention this place to Sam. Seems like somewhere he’d enjoy.

He’s pretty sure Cas is fucking with him when he tells Dean where they are the next time, even though Cas isn’t really the type to fuck around at all.

“Dude, no.” He shakes his head and stuffs his hands further into the pockets of the fluffy down jacket that Cas got him from… well, from somewhere. He at least considered the temperatures this time around, which was an improvement. “That’s not a real name. That’s not what this is called.”

“If you need me to show you an atlas when we return to the bunker, I will,” Cas patiently returns. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, Dean.”

“But there’s no way—”

“It’s called Longyearbyen. After its founder. It’s also among the world’s northernmost settlements. And given the long year that’s just gone by, I felt it an appropriate place to go. Do you disagree?”

“Was that a joke?”

The smile at the corner of Cas’s lips is all the answer that he needs, and he finds himself returning the smile, somewhat against his will. “That was awful.”

“If you say so.” Castiel pauses, staring up at the sky. Dean can’t read the expression on his face. They’re on a glacier or something, and he can’t see the lights of civilization anywhere.

“I was hoping we’d be able to see the Aurora Borealis tonight. I’ll take you back sometime when it’s visible.” A beat, both of them looking up at the dark, empty sky, and then Castiel continues, almost hesitantly, “I come and watch it, sometimes. Usually when you’re asleep, and I find myself otherwise unoccupied. The infinite variations of it are wondrous to behold. I can think of few things in Heaven that surpassed their beauty.”

Dean nods. He’s not sure what to say, or why the admission kind of chokes him up. Something about the loneliness, maybe. Or maybe it’s the opposite. The notion of Castiel somehow finding a place on Earth, no longer grieving for what he left behind in Heaven.

They stand in silence under the empty sky until the cold becomes too much for Dean, even with his jacket, and with Castiel’s shoulder pressed against his. They have a brief respite at the bunker, and then head off to Lisbon. That’s fairly uneventful, which is kind of nice. Just him, Cas, and a kiss. Dean thinks that maybe at this point, he should be getting bored of kissing Cas or something. But he’s not. He’s 100%, definitely, without a doubt not.

Next up is Praia, in Cape Verde. Dean makes a private resolution to get better at world geography, because he honestly doesn’t think he’s heard of some of these places. And given that his… boyfriend is an angel with knowledge spanning longer than human existence, he should maybe try to educate himself a bit. Just so he doesn’t do or say anything embarrassing.

He does, at least, know where Rio de Janeiro is. There’s music and laughter, and even though it’s crowded, no one notices him and Cas popping in or out. For a moment, as he and Cas stand side by side observing the celebrations, Dean is reminded that this is what he’s lived and died for. To make sure that things like this can still happen, that people still have things to get excited before. To keep the earth from becoming the miserable ghost of itself that 2014 could have brought.

The next turn of the year, and they’re in the Arctic again, or at least that’s what it feels like. The edge of a fjord in Nuuk, Greenland. Dean thinks of making a crack about how little green there is, but he figures that even Cas has probably heard that one before.

Instead he says, “Y’know, with all this flipping back between warm and cold, I’m probably going to catch the flu.”

With all the flying, he’s probably also going to be constipated for a month or something. He doesn’t mention that part.

“I would heal you if you got sick,” Castiel replies serenely. “And our next stop should agree with you, if the changing bothers your body.”

He’s not wrong. The next stop is also cold as balls. But the cold isn’t the most pressing thing on Dean’s mind.

“Dude. I could deal with Longyearbyen. Fucking Norse. But this is Canada. I’ve been to Canada before. They’re kinda weird, but they’re not _this_ weird.”

“I brought you here solely because of the name. I know you’d like it.”

They’re surrounded by pine trees. It’s cold. Dean is Not Fucking Buying It.

“Say it,” Cas presses. “Dean. It’s a real place, and I’m happy to show it to you on a map. Just say it.”

He wouldn’t. In a million years of normal circumstances, he wouldn’t. But this is Cas joking with him. This is Cas actually _acting like he’s having a good time_. And that’s not something Dean takes for granted.

So he sucks it up, and he sighs, and he says, “Happy Valley Goose Bay.”

“Good. Again.”

Dean bends down, and in a single swift motion perfected by all his years of being an older brother, he’s tossing a perfectly compact snowball at Castiel. For a moment, Cas just stares at him, head tilted slightly like a confused puppy. Then he recognizes that Dean is preparing an assault once again, and he quickly steps into motion.

Castiel cleans them off when they head back to the bunker for another brief respite. “We’ll be in the mountains next, so you may want to retain your coat,” he informs Dean.

Dean nods. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

And then he’s disappearing further into the bunker, plan half-formed at the edges of his mind.

*

Castiel raises his eyebrows at the bags that Dean holds, but he doesn’t hesitate before flying them to somewhere in the Green Mountains in Vermont.

“I didn’t want to take us up to the peak,” he informs Dean when he breaks off the kiss. “It’s windy up there. You’d be uncomfortable.”

Dean nods. “It’s okay. The view’s great from here.” Well, from what he can see in the dark, anyway. It’s enough, the land spreading off beneath them, the occasional lights of houses in the distance. And the stars above. He’s looked at a lot of skies today – tonight? – in the period that he and Cas have been welcoming in the New Year. But it feels most familiar here. It’s hard for him to think of the bunker as home, even though it definitely is. For most of his life, he’s had little home beyond the open roads of America. And the stars out here feel like the rooftop of a familiar old house, even though he knows, realistically, that they’re the same stars he viewed in Dubai or in Egypt.

“Did you want to stay?” asks Cas. “I realize that maybe it’s been a long day for you.”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah, today’s been a lot, but I want to stay. I was planning on it.” He opens up the bag and withdraws a plush blanket, which he spreads on the ground. There’s no snow, thankfully, but he’d rather not deal with the cold seeping through his pants and numbing his ass. 

Cas glances at him. Even in the dark, Dean can see the surprise in his face.

“What? I dunno. You shouldn’t have to do all the work in this relationship. C’mon.”

He tugs Cas into sitting down next to him, then takes out the blanket made of some sort of probably-real fur and wraps them both in it. He nestles closer to Cas. Between the angel’s body heat and the blanket, he’s… actually pretty comfortable.

Dean reaches into the bag and pulls out a thermos of hot cocoa. With mini marshmallows (why did they even have mini marshmallows in the bunker? Just one of those mysteries). He hands it to Cas, lets him take the first sip.

Castiel leans into his side. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“All I did was pack two blankets and make some hot chocolate. ‘s nothing.”

“It’s everything. Thank you. I was thinking of taking us to New York to watch the ‘ball drop,’ as it’s called, but I felt it would be too crowded.”

“Good call. I like it better out here.”

They sit in silence, stargazing. Then a thought occurs to Dean, and it’s out his lips before he can fully mull it over. “We’ve never really been on a date. Have we?”

Cas hums. “I don’t think so. Does it matter?”

“What? Yeah. I mean, we’ve slept together. We’re. You know.”

“Boyfriends?” Castiel supplies helpfully.

“Uh. Yeah. I mean, we definitely are.” Because he was the one who asked Cas out, when he was drunk and it felt like he had a few seconds where the world wasn’t ending and he didn’t have any excuse to put it off any longer. And he hasn’t regretted it, not once.

“I dunno. I sometimes think I don’t really know how to be. A boyfriend. In a relationship. Especially when you’re… you. An angel.” Dean pauses, but Cas continues gazing at him, so he tries to continue. “The rules don’t apply. Like we’ve slept together, but it’s not like we _sleep together_ usually. Because you don’t have to sleep. And like. How do you do something special for someone who can do literally anything? I’m scared because the good things in my life don’t usually stick around. And I love you, and I don’t wanna mess this up.”

Castiel leans in and kisses him then, and he shuts up. It’s a good distraction. Momentarily keeps him from realizing how he just said everything to Cas that he’s wanted to say, but has found himself too scared to mention. When they come up for air, Castiel lays a hand on his cheek, and Dean marvels at how his hands can still be warm even out here, with no gloves.

“Dean. You know that you’re enough?”

He glances at Cas. Words catch in his throat. He’s silent.

“I’m not of this place. I don’t expect our romance to follow whatever guidelines you’ve learned. There are no guidelines for this. No precedent. Unless you count the unions that produced the Nephilim, which I wouldn’t.”

“Yeah. This is pretty different.”

Castiel nods. “And whatever pressures you exert upon yourself, whatever standards you hold yourself or our relationship to… you have every right to feel as you do. But if I felt something was wrong, I would tell you. I haven’t mentioned anything because as far as I can see, there’s nothing to talk about. If there is, that’s a conversation I’d be glad to have.”

“No. I mean. I guess the only thing is just that I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. And that’s… scary. Fuck,” he adds after a pause. “This sounds so dumb. I’ve been to Hell. And Purgatory. And Heaven. _Those_ were scary. This is nothing.”

“Fear takes different forms. Or so I remember from my time as human.” He smiles and squeezes Dean’s and, and Dean swears he can feel the angel’s warmth even through his gloves. “And unlike Hell, or part of your time in Purgatory, you’re not alone. You won’t be at all.”

“Yeah.” He nods and leans against Cas. It’s hard to let himself do that, to admit that he needs affection – that he can have affection and comfort. But they’re alone out here. And maybe it’s something he can work on even when in the company of others. “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“How badly d’you want to ring in the rest of the New Years?”

“Hmm.” Cas leans down and kisses his temple, and Dean’s not blushing. He’s not. “I wouldn’t object if our last one were in the bunker.”

“Sweet. We’re on the same page, then. But we’ve still got time, yeah?”

“Just over half an hour.”

“Let’s wait a little while, okay?”

“Of course.” And wrapped in a blanket, next to Castiel on a mountainside, staring at the stars and drinking his hot chocolate, Dean thinks of all the things they can do at home. And he thinks that maybe, for once, he’s not scared to have a good thing in his life. And he thinks that maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to the year ahead.


End file.
